


without ever letting you know

by Lyxxie



Series: beck and call [3]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: All hail patron saint Fred Andrews, Best parent riverdale's ever seen, Enjoy this little reprieve while the show's on hiatus, Have you all started decorating your dumpster yet, I write Jughead's lines as stuff I say myself, Jarchie - Freeform, M/M, Ridiculous amounts of shameless fluff, So that's kinda why he swears so much, The boys kinda maul each other but clothes stay on, The cliche "first time they say I love you" fic, This one's not rated E and I'm sorry that no one visits the bone zone, don't give me that look, not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 22:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10318070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyxxie/pseuds/Lyxxie
Summary: "...I'm pretty sure I'm in love with your son, pass the corn chips."ORWhen "hey let's tell your dad that we're dating" accidentally turns into "whoops I just dropped the 'love bomb' please say something before I panic".





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, children. 
> 
> Yeah, I know I was supposed to be fueling everyone's need for some good ol' fashioned porn, but I had two ideas in my head that wouldn't go away and didn't fit the E bill. Here's one, and the next one's a doozy. 
> 
> For your viewing pleasure, please enjoy the strangest (happiest) day of Jughead's young life.
> 
> Bisoux. xx

“We should probably tell your dad that we’re dating, huh?” Jughead asks the faceless mass on the bed as he readjusts in the chair, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Archie reaches up to remove the open textbook from his face as Jughead fights to keep his eyes on his laptop screen. He runs his fingers over the keys in random order to complete the façade, brain solely focused on keeping every nervous tic in check. He catalogues each muscle in his body that's screaming at him to move around, restless energy in spades, from his legs to the ghost twitch beside his left eye. Archie sits up, book beside him on the bed, and Jughead feels eyes on him like a microscope to his soul. He blinks at the screen and sees the nonsense words he's typed in the middle of his English essay, quickly backspacing over ‘The root of all his problems clearly stems from his inability to circus fuck christ shit apotnshrtlsihtbahtolakent’.

  
“Yeah. Yeah, we should.” Archie’s voice sounds a little higher than normal, and Jughead risks a glance over to see him rake a hand through his hair, his own nervous behaviour raising its head.

  
“It’s a good idea. It’s what normal people do.” Jughead can’t be sure who he’s reassuring, and meets Archie’s gaze as he swallows a quick wave of anxiety. 

  
“Right. Right, yeah, of course. And…and it'll go good-“

  
“Well.” Jughead corrects automatically, distracted enough that his leg jiggles against the floor for a moment. Archie nods absent-mindedly, too quick, and puts his hands on his knees.

  
“-because Dad loves you like a son and he doesn’t care who people are with, because why would he, right? There’s no way he'd be…” Archie trails off, tongue flicking out to lick lips that Jughead is sure are suddenly as dry as his own.

  
“Against…gays?” Jughead finishes, voice airy even to his own ears. He knows Archie never told his dad about his sexuality, never having brought a boy home before. This he knows, and this he fears, nonsensical as it may be.

  
“Bisexuals.” Archie corrects, just as robotically, and drops his head into his hands.

  
“Speak for yourself.” Jughead's fingers are twitching, one hand reaching up to scratch a non-existent itch on his shoulder. There’s a buzz in his head that's just loud enough to drown out the voice of reason, of logic, in the corner of his mind that’s trying to explain that of _course_ Mr. Andrews will be happy for them and of _course_ he’s still going to look at him the same and _no_ he’s not about to ruin the relationship between father and son, that’s _ridiculous,_ Jughead _calm down,_ you're overreacting, it'll be – 

  
“It’s definitely going to be easier than telling _your_ dad.” Archie’s voice is soft, small, hushed, his head turned to watch Jughead with a sadness in his eyes that Jughead feels an echo of somewhere in deep in his heart.

  
“A conversation I’m not planning on having in any vision of the near future.” He can hear the tundra in his voice, the hollow frigidness of his assertion turning his eyes to the wall. A few beats of silence follow, and Jughead moves to close his laptop, aiming for anything to soothe his frazzled nerves.

  
“You’ve already planned out what you’re going to say to my dad, then?” Archie tries for a joke, a little forced, but Jughead barks out a laugh anyway as he begins to stand, too restless to sit anymore.

  
“Yeah, it’s my best material. ‘Hey, Mr. Andrews, you know how Archie seems to be washing his sheets a lot lately? That’s definitely because we’re _together_ up in his room. It's not a new girlfriend, it’s _me._ You understand, right? Don’t worry, we’re safe, everything’s great, we’re happy, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with your son, pass the corn chips.’” The laptop closes in his hands with a distinct _click,_ as loud in Jughead’s head as thunder. His slip is at once obvious to him, and his body freezes in place immediately. There’s silence in the room, and he finds he can’t tear his eyes away from the light switch. There’s silence in his thoughts, and he finds he misses the noise as every single word he's ever learned tumbles out of his ears. When his mind snaps back into itself, he wonders if it’s been a second or a minute or an hour.

  
Archie finally moves, so slow, too slow, putting one hand on the bed and turning his head to fully face the other boy. Jughead is frozen still, heart beating with dull thuds that sound to him too similar to movie scenes, like drums before a hanging.

  
“Jug,” Archie’s voice is gravelly and he swallows. Jughead blinks and moves his gaze over to the right an inch. His breaths are shallow, barely enough to keep his lungs from protesting, and as his thoughts begin to trickle back into his head he tries to remember how to swear in other languages.

  
“Jug, you've gotta look at me.” Archie says, but Jughead doesn’t move. “C'mon, please. _Juggie.”_ Jughead’s eyes slide over at the name, a known weakness, inch by inch until he can see red hair. The grin on Archie’s face is blinding, a summer day to a winter's night, and Jughead blinks through the relief that tears itself through him like a drug. “You love me?” Archie's voice is still soft, but joy sings through every word and turns the corners of Jughead's mouth up.

  
“This _cannot_ be news to you.” Jughead replies, his own voice rough but steadier than he’d thought it would be. Archie's eyes search his face with a breathless laugh and he stands suddenly with a hand out to grab the laptop from Jughead’s clenched fingers. He just barely spares a glance away as he bends to put the laptop on his bed, and Jughead tries to send signals down through his still shell-shocked body. When Archie rights himself again it’s to put a hand on Jughead’s face, and the butterflies in his touch float down to move Jughead’s stiff muscles. 

  
“I’m going to kiss you now.” Archie’s words are eager, eyes wide and shining like blissed-out spotlights. Jughead laughs, though it sounds more like a rushed intake of breath that does nothing to quell the dizziness in his head. 

  
“It’s ridiculous to announce everything you do. Please don’t start being one of those people.” Archie's smile leans in, ducks down, and when he kisses him Jughead feels like he stole the sun. Their lips slide together, over one another, and Archie presses into him so that Jughead can feel the full line of his body vibrating like a taut string. A noise slips past Archie's lips and kick-starts Jughead’s heart, molten lava filling his veins as he slides clammy palms under the edge of Archie’s shirt.

  
“I love you.” Archie whispers against his lips, words as feverish as his hands as they slide around the back of Jughead’s neck to card through ink black hair, shaking with too much emotion. Jughead’s smile splits across his face and he licks into his boyfriend's mouth, fingers trailing up up up his back before pressing into his skin like a branding iron. Archie puts their foreheads together, breath already coming in short bursts, and says it again like a prayer, a promise, a truth. This time Jughead laughs, the last of the ice cracking in his bones, fitting their hips together with a sure tug and swallowing the noise that eases out of Archie's throat.

  
“I love you.” Jughead murmurs through his smile, and feels the shiver that courses down Archie’s body through his fingers on his back. Archie knots fingers in his hair and holds onto the beanie with his thumbs, kissing hard against his mouth with lips and teeth and tongue. Jughead moans from somewhere deep in his chest and rocks their bodies together.

  
“Again,” Archie groans, sliding his lips down to his neck and ushering him back against the wall. Jughead feels the solidness behind him for a moment, a flash, before Archie grazes teeth over his pulse and he keens. _“please.”_ Jughead repeats the words easily, truthfully, blissfully, heart freeing its secret into the air of Archie's bedroom. They’re barely past his lips before Archie moves his hands down to grab the backs of Jughead's thighs, hitching him up and curling his legs around his waist. Jughead begins to make a noise of surprise, hands moving out from under Archie's shirt to grab at his shoulders, but Archie bites down in the crook of his neck and the sound turns into a breathy curse.

  
“We'll tell my dad later.” Archie hums, slotting his hips to press their cocks together. Jughead hiccups out a gasp, knees clenching at the other's waist, and Archie trails his mouth along a winding path across Jughead’s throat.

  
“Arch, _jesus,_ he’s home right now. Down- _ah, fuck_ -stairs. 

  
“Then fuck it, he'll figure it out.”

  
“Arch, _motherfuck, Arch,_ I am not having sex with you against a _wall_ when I can hear your dad in the kitchen downstairs and we _just_ decided that we should _tell him we’re dating._ What the _fuck,_ if I’d have known you'd get this riled up from me telling you I loved you I'd have done it _months_ ago.” Archie laughs and pulls back for a moment, eyes wild and sparkling. Jughead can’t resist kissing him despite his words, wanting to taste whatever drug he’s on.

  
“Months? Like, ‘before we got together' months?” Archie's smiling again, smiling forever, and Jughead is always helpless not to match it.

  
“Yes, asshole, months. Can we go tell your dad now before I lose whatever the fuck is left of my nerves after this interlude?”

  
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” Archie’s eyes are dark, head dipping closer with the same speed of Jughead's breathing.

  
_“No,_ I’m not sure, you fucking _cheater-“_ Archie's mouth closes over his own, teeth pulling at his bottom lip and tongue curling along his own, sliding over the backs of his teeth and curling Jughead’s toes. Jughead gives in easily, as if he even had a chance, one hand trailing up to rake nails across the back of Archie's scalp. He almost doesn't realize that his feet are back on the floor, so distracted is he by the low groan coaxed out of the redhead, only brought to the fact by Archie’s hands pulling his own away from his body. 

  
“It’s probably for the best, anyway. Can’t be too loud with an audience, and I _really_ enjoy the sounds you make.” Archie’s grin is smug, breathing heavy and unashamed as he takes a step back for them to collect themselves. Jughead straightens his shirt with a swallow, eyebrows pulling down slightly in reflex self-consciousness as he wonders if his skin is flushed in the same colour as Archie's hair. 

  
“Yeah, well, I'm kind of a one-man show.” Archie laughs, reaching up to smooth down his hair. They continue to watch each other as always as the flames pull back into themselves, Jughead's returning to slumber deep in his bones. He can see the letters flit through Archie's eyes, watches him form words without speaking and try to pick a question, and he waits with a smile.

  
“You love me.” He says again, and it’s not a question, but Jughead answers anyway with a soft smile.

  
“Yes.” It’s simple and easy, as Jughead is starting to understand that most things with Archie are, and he basks in the glow of the other boy's crooked grin for a moment. “But I’m trying to look respectable for your dad, so maybe let's be less handsy and give ourselves a few minutes to _calm down.”_ He raises an eyebrow pointedly and a flush floods Archie's cheeks again, edging down his neck. Jughead catches an errant thought, briefly wondering how the heat of that skin would taste under his tongue, and scrubs a hand over his face with a groan. _“Goddamnit.”_

_  
_

It’s fifteen minutes later that they’re stepping down the stairs and moving into the living room, the news blaring out of the tv as Fred sits on the couch and sips at a drink. Jughead frowns at the loud newscaster, focusing on its annoyance to keep him distracted from his nerves. Archie clears his throat and reaches up to scratch behind his ear. Jughead fingers the edge of his sleeve, betraying him anyway. Fred shifts his eyes to them and smiles.

  
“Hey, uh…Dad? I wanted to…we wanted to talk to you about – why is the tv so loud?” Archie bails, face flinching, and Jughead sighs beside him.

  
_“Wuss.”_ He hisses, Archie reaching out to swat his arm. Fred looks back at the tv and swings a dry gaze back to the boys, face amused.

  
“Do you think I normally listen to the tv with the volume at 50?” he asks. There’s a blink of confusion, and Jughead glances up at Archie to see realization dawning on his face at the same time heat floods his own, looking back at Fred with rosy embarrassment. Fred chuckles, reaching out to grab the remote and lower the volume. “I think you boys forget that I still understand what relationships look like. Also that voices and…sounds tend to carry in old houses.”

  
Jughead looks over to the front window and briefly flirts with the idea of hurling himself out of it and running. “Shit.” 

  
“Language.” Fred admonishes instinctually.

  
“Sorry.” Jughead forces himself to meet him head on. Fred's eyes are soft, the same look he gives him when he wakes up to find Jughead in his kitchen, coffee brewing and laptop on the table, the same smile on his face, and Jughead mirrors it shakily. He feels a release of relief for the second time in less than an hour, and prides himself on not jumping when Archie reaches out to twine their fingers together. Fred looks down and smiles, looking up to treat his son with the same gaze.

  
“I always hoped you two crazy kids would get together.” He quips, and Jughead can hear Archie laughing as he smiles. “I jumped the gun, though, I’m sorry. You look like you might have prepared speeches or something.”

  
“Well, Jug has-“ Archie starts, and Jughead lifts their linked hands to elbow him in the ribs. 

  
“Shut _up.”_ Jughead shoots him a glare, and Archie laughs again. Fred shakes his head and stands, coming around to put a hand on each of their shoulders.

  
“Staying for dinner?” he asks Jughead, face open like his son's. Jughead feels a mild case of whiplash in his body, sure that he never imagined today would go like this.

  
“I…yes. Please, sure.” Jughead fumbles, and Fred claps them both once before ambling off to the kitchen. 

  
“Good, cause I’m making your favourite. Already called in the order at Pop's, you boys go pick it up.”

  
“Alright, Dad.” Archie calls, turning in towards Jughead with a barely concealed smirk. Jughead rolls his eyes and reaches up to rub at the bridge of his nose, positive he’s had at least two out-of-body experiences in one day.

  
“Told you it would be fine.” Archie says, running his thumb over the backs of Jughead’s knuckles.

  
“Bullshit. You were panicking too, don’t start with me.”

  
Archie shrugs, leaning forward. “Guess you’re stuck with me.” 

  
Jughead snorts, breathing out a hushed laugh as he sways forward to meet him halfway. “The horror.”  



End file.
